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The Gathering Storm
by Turtler
Claacckk
Jack, on his heightened senses, could not fail to identify the sound of a pipe hitting the floor. Far too close for him to be comfortable. He, still sweating profusely, reached over his right shoulder looking for his pistol.
Clackacakl
Jack's blood ran cold, as the rate of repetition of noise heightened, getting closer and closer. His alarm heightened when his hand failed to feel the reassuring solidness of the metal pistol, trying to reach it blindly with the one hand, not wanting to take his eyes off the doorway for some reason.
CLACKLACKLACKLACKLACK
Jack was firmly horrified, as if he had to hazard a guess, the commotion was on the hallway leading to his own, and most alarmingly of all, IT WAS GETTING CLOSER.
He was desperate, and he managed to pry his eyes away long enough to get up, move to the desk he had kept his belongings on.
CLACKCLACKCLAKCLACKCLACKLACKALCK
Jack's heart beat furiously in his chest, searching, overturning books, equipment, everything, the only sound he could hear save for his furiously heavy breathing was the ever present sound of the pipes, rapidly falling and increasingly getting louder.
As the noise neared a crescendo, Jack scattered his copy of the Anabasis to the ground, and there, even in the faint light of the room, a slight metallic glint caught his eye.
As the sound became deafeningly loud, Jack grabbed the gun by the butt, put his hands on the trigger, and turned around.
But Not fast enough.
As Jack turned himself back towards the doorway, he saw out of the corner of his eye for a flicker of a second, and for a brief movement in time as he
was turning, he could have sworn he had seen something. But as he completed his turn, whatever it was had gone.
Sheer, utter quiet filtered through the room. But not for long.
Jack could literally feel his ears perk by just a bit to hear the sound that was now echoing down the corridor. And that sound was the slow groan of bending steel. And that was followed by a sharp snap, and the hollow thwack of it hitting the ground. And this sound, every so slowly, began working away.
He knew that he probably, with the sound-and whatever was making it- moving away, he could probably concealed himself somewhere in his quarters, and; with himself now armed, he could set up a line of fire on the doorway. However, for a reason he himself could not explain, he put his gun into firing position, and began to move slowly and quietly towards the door. Halting just before the door, he than turned his body into the hallway towards the noise.
That was when he saw something. Amidst the gloom, a flicker of grey could be seen, rounding the corner just as Jack turned into the hallway.
Jack knew almost subconsciously that this would not be the smartest thing he had done by far, but still began to inch through the hallway as quietly as possible, following the now-resumed sickening noise of cracking metal. However, after what seemed like a year, he rounded the corner, and found a familiar spectacle: a grey---- cloak? For something similar whipped across the corner, and, as he continued to inch slowly -barely taking note of the shattered pipes that littered the ground- he heard the sound ahead of him speed up, and as it got more and more intense, it also became more distant. And that could only mean one thing.
He had been found out, and the interloper was running.
So Jack picked up the pace. Throwing caution to the wind, he started to run after the sounds echoing through the halls. However, time and again he was disappointed to see that as he rounded a new hallway as a grey piece of cloth could be seen rounding the next corridor. The sound was becoming deafeningly loud, becoming slightly louder or softer depending on his progress. He ran, faster and faster, trying to keep up with his quarry. But in spite of that, the foe always seemed to be one step ahead of him, in spite of how much he picked up the pace.
Jack lost all sense of time. It could have been minutes, hours, DAYS that he was chasing this thing through the uncharted, abandoned, and forgotten sections of the ancient city. But finally, he heard a noise. The same rending of metal, but this time it was weak, faint. And getting fainter.
He was loosing his prey. And were he to loose his unseen opponent now, he might not get another chance. He ran like a madman, barely avoiding hitting the dust-coated, antique walls and avoiding the cracked pipes and metal.
Hallway after hallway, faster and faster and still no sight was the only thing that was running through his mind as he rounded yet another corridor in his single-sighted pursuit.
And he did not think of anything else until, before starting down another of the city's endless hallways, he felt a hard, sharp smash on the back of his head.
Jack fell, too exhausted to yell out for help or even in pain. Dropping his Pistol, he fell face first on the dust-lathered floor.
He could barely summon the strength to see through his blurring eyes something brownish with a white-blue hue standing over him.
But than, his fatigue and the pain from the sharp blow overtook him, and cast him into darkness, to see no more.
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